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But it was quite common in those days of my old yellow Admiral for boys to go to sea even as young as seven years old. My present host's grandfather went to sea as a Midshipman at seven years old! Afterwards he was Lord Nelson's Signal Midshipman, his name was Hamilton, and his grandson was Midshipman with me in two ships. He is now the 13th Duke of Hamilton! It is interesting as a Nelsonic legend that the wife of the 6th Duke of Hamilton peculiarly befriended Emma, Lady Hamilton, and recognised her, as so few did then , as one of the noblest women who ever lived--one mass of sympathy she was!

The stories of what boys went through then at sea were appalling. I have a corroboration in lovely letters from a little Midshipman who was in the great blockade of Brest by Admiral Cornwallis in 1802. This little boy was afterwards killed just after Trafalgar. He describes seeing the body of Nelson on board ship on its way to Portsmouth. This little Midshipman was only eleven years old when he was killed! This is how he describes the Midshipman's food: "We live on beef which has been ten or eleven years in a cask, and on biscuit which makes your throat cold in eating it owing to the maggots, which are very cold when you eat them! like calves-foot jelly or blomonge--being very fat indeed!" He goes on again: "We drink water the colour of the bark of a pear tree with plenty of little maggots and weevils in it, and wine, which is exactly like bullock's blood and sawdust mixed together"; and he adds in his letter to his mother: "I hope I shall not learn to swear, and by God's assistance I hope I shall not!" He tried to save the Captain of his Top from falling from aloft. This is his description: "The hands were hurried up to reef topsails, and my station is in the foretop. When the men began to lay in from the yards one of them laid hold of a slack rope, which gave way, and he fell out of the top on deck and was dashed to pieces and very near carried me out of the top along with him as I was attempting to lay hold of him to save him!!!" Our little friend the Midshipman was eight years old at this time! What a picture! this little boy trying to save the sailor huge and hairy! His description to his mother of Cornwallis's Fleet is interesting: "We have on board Admiral Graves, who came in his ten-oared barge, and as soon as he put his foot on shipboard the drums and fifes began to play, and the Marines and all presented their arms. We are all prepared for action, all our guns being loaded with double shot. We have a fine sight, which is the Grand Channel Fleet, which consists of 95 sail of the line, each from 120 down to 64 guns."

That is the Midshipman of the olden day, and one often has misgivings that the modern system of sending boys to sea much older is a bad one, when such magnificent results were produced by the old method, more especially as in the former days the Captain had a more paternal charge of those little boys coming on board one by one, as compared with the present crowd sent in batches of big hulking giants, some of them. However, there is more to learn now than formerly, and possibly it's impossible ; but one would like to give it a trial of sending boys to sea at nine years old. Our little hero tried to save the life of the Captain of his Top when he was only eight years old! Still, the Osborne system of Naval education has its great merits; but it has been a grievous blow to it, departing from the original conception of entry at eleven years of age.

However, the lines of the modern Midshipman are laid in pleasant places; they get good food and a good night's rest. Late as I came to sea in 1854, I had to keep either the First or Middle Watch every night and was always hungry! Devilled Pork rind was a luxury, and a Spanish Onion with a Sardine in the Middle Watch was Paradise!

In the first ship I was in we not only carried our fresh water in casks, but we had some rare old Ship's Biscuit supplied in what were known as "bread-bags." These bread-bags were not preservative; they were creative. A favourite amusement was to put a bit of this biscuit on the table and see how soon all of it would walk away. In fact one midshipman could gamble away his "tot" of rum with another midshipman by pitting one bit of biscuit against another. Anyhow, whenever you took a bit of biscuit to eat it you always tapped it edgeways on the table to let the "grown-ups" get away.

The Water was nearly as bad as the Biscuit. It was turgid--it was smelly--it was animally. I remember so well, in the Russian War , being sent with the Watering Party to the Island of Nargen to get fresh water, as we were running short of it in this old Sailing Line of Battleship I was in . My youthful astonishment was how on earth the Lieutenant in charge of the Watering Party discovered the Water. There wasn't a lake and there wasn't a stream, but he went and dug a hole and there was the water! However, it may be that he carried out the same delightful plan as my delicious old Admiral in China. This Admiral's survey of the China Seas is one of the most celebrated on record. He told me himself that this is how he did it. He used to anchor in some convenient place every few miles right up the Coast of China. He had a Chinese Interpreter on board. He sent this man to every Fishing Village and offered a dollar for every rock and shoal. No rock or shoal has ever been discovered since my beloved Admiral finished his survey. Perhaps the Lieutenant of the Watering Party gave Roubles!

I must mention here an instance of the Simple Genius of the Chinese. A sunken ship, that had defied all European efforts to raise her, was bought by a Chinaman for a mere song. He went and hired all the Chinamen from an adjacent Sponge Fishery and bought up several Bamboo Plantations where the bamboos were growing like grass. The way they catch sponges is this--The Chinaman has no diving dress--he holds his nose--a leaden weight attached to his feet takes him down to where the sponges are--he picks the sponges--evades the weight--and rises. They pull up the weight with a bit of string afterwards. The Chinese genius I speak of sent the men down with bamboos, and they stuck them into the sunk ship, and soon "up she came"; and the Chinaman said:

"Ship hab Bamboo-- No hab Water!"

It's a pity there's no bamboo dodge for Sunk Reputations!

An uncle of mine had a snuff box made out of the Salt Beef, and it was french-polished! That was his beef--and ours was nearly as hard.

There were many brutalities when I first entered the Navy--now mercifully no more. For instance, the day I joined as a little boy I saw eight men flogged--and I fainted at the sight.

Not long ago I was sitting at luncheon next to a distinguished author, who told me I was "a very interesting person!" and wanted to know what my idea of life was, I replied that what made a life was not its mature years but the early portions when the seed was sown and the blossom so often blasted by the frost of unrecognition. It was then that the fruit of after years was pruned to something near the mark of success. "Your great career was when you were young," said a dear friend to me the other day. I entered the Navy penniless, friendless and forlorn. While my mess-mates were having jam, I had to go without. While their stomachs were full, mine was often empty. I have always had to fight like hell, and fighting like hell has made me what I am. Hunger and thirst are the way to Heaven!

There was a fiddler to every ship, and when the anchor was being weighed, he used to sit on the capstan and play, so as to keep the men in step and in good heart. And on Sundays, everyone being in full dress, epaulettes and all, the fiddler walked round the decks playing in front of the Captain. I must add this happened in a Brig commanded by Captain Miller.

After the "Victory," my next ship was the "Calcutta," and I joined it under circumstances which Mr. A. G. Gardiner has narrated thus:--

"One day far back in the fifties of last century a sailing ship came round from Portsmouth into Plymouth Sound, where the fleet lay. Among the passengers was a little midshipman fresh from his apprenticeship in the 'Victory.' He scrambled aboard the Admiral's ship, and with the assurance of thirteen marched up to a splendid figure in blue and gold, and said, handing him a letter: 'Here, my man, give this to the Admiral.' The man in blue and gold smiled, took the letter, and opened it. 'Are you the Admiral?' said the boy. 'Yes, I'm the Admiral.' He read the letter, and patting the boy on the head, said: 'You must stay and have dinner with me.' 'I think,' said the boy, 'I should like to be getting on to my ship.' He spoke as though the British Navy had fallen to his charge. The Admiral laughed, and took him down to dinner. That night the boy slept aboard the 'Calcutta,' a vessel of 84 guns, given to the British Navy by an Indian merchant at a cost of ?84,000. It was the day of small things and of sailing-ships. The era of the ironclad and the 'Dreadnought' had not dawned."

Shadwell's appearance on going into a fight I must describe. We went up a Chinese river to capture a pirate stronghold. Presently the pirates opened fire from a banana plantation on the river bank. We nipped ashore from the boats to the banana plantation. I remember I was armed to the teeth, like a Greek brigand, all swords and pistols, and was weighed down with my weapons. We took shelter in the banana plantation, but our Captain stood on the river bank. I shall never forget it. He was dressed in a pair of white trousers, yellow waistcoat and a blue tail coat with brass buttons and a tall white hat with a gold stripe up the side of it, and he was waving a white umbrella to encourage us to come out of the bananas and go for the enemy. He had no weapon of any sort. So we all had to come out and go for the Chinese.

Once the Chinese guns were firing at us, and as the shell whizzed over the boat we all ducked. "Lay on your oars, my men," said Shadwell; and proceeded to explain very deliberately how ducking delayed the progress of the boat--apparently unaware that his lecture had stopped its progress altogether!

His sole desire for fame was to do good, and he requested for himself when he died that he should be buried under an apple tree, so that people might say: "God bless old Shadwell!" He never flogged a man in his life. When my Captain was severely wounded, I being with him as his Aide-de-Camp , he asked me when being sent home what he could do for me. I asked him to give me a set of studs with his motto on them: "Loyal au mort," and I have worn them daily for over sixty years. When this conversation took place, the Admiral came to say good-bye to him, and he asked my Captain what he could do for him. He turned his suffering body towards me and said to the Admiral: "Take care of that boy." And so he did.

Admiral Hope was a great man, very stern and stately, the sort of man everybody was afraid of. His nickname was composed of the three ships he had commanded: "Terrible ... Firebrand ... Majestic." He turned to me and said: "Go down in my boat"; and everyone in the Fleet saw this Midshipman going into the Admiral's boat. He took me with him to the Flagship; and I got on very well with him because I wrote a very big hand which he could read without spectacles.

He promoted me to Lieutenant at the earliest possible date, and sent me on various services, which greatly helped me.

My first chance came when Admiral Hope sent me to command a vessel in Chinese waters on special service. His motto was "Favouritism is the secret of efficiency," and though I was only nineteen he put me over the heads of many older men because he believed that I should do what I was told to do, and carry out the orders of the Admiral regardless of consequences. And so I did, although I made all sorts of mistakes and nearly lost the ship. When I came back everyone seemed to expect that I should be tried by Court-Martial; but the Admiral only cared that I had done what he wanted done; and then he gave me command of another vessel.

The Captain of the ship I came home in was another sea wonder, by name Oliver Jones. He was Satanic; yet I equally liked him, for, like Satan, he could disguise himself as an angel; and I believe I was the only officer he did not put under arrest. For some reason I got on with him, and he made me the Navigating Officer of the ship. He told me when I first came on board that he thought he had committed every crime under the sun except murder. I think he committed that crime while I was with him. He was a most fascinating man. He had such a charm, he was most accomplished, he was a splendid rider, a wonderful linguist, an expert navigator and a thorough seaman. He had the best cook, and the best wines ever afloat in the Navy, and was hospitable to an extreme. Almost daily he had a lot of us to dinner, but after dinner came hell! We dined with him in tail coat and epaulettes. After dinner he had sail drill, or preparing the ship for battle, and persecution then did its utmost.

Once, while I was serving with him, we were frozen in out of sight of land in the Gulf of Pechili in the North of China. And there were only Ship's provisions, salt beef, salt pork, pea soup, flour, and raisins. Oliver Jones was our Captain, or we wouldn't have been frozen in. The Authorities told him to get out of that Gulf and that's why he stayed in. I never knew a man who so hated Authority. I forget how many degrees below zero the thermometer was, and it was only by an unprecedented thaw that we ever got out. And with this intense cold he would often begin at four o'clock in the morning to prepare for battle, and hand up every shot in the ship on to the Upper Deck, then he'd strike Lower Yards and Topmasts , and finish up with holystoning the Decks, which operation he requested all the Officers to honour with their presence. And when we went to Sea we weren't quite sure where we would go to . Till that date I had never known what a delicacy a seagull was. We used to get inside an empty barrel on the ice to shoot them, and nothing was lost of them. The Doctor skinned them to make waistcoats of the skins--the insides were put on the ice to bait other seagulls, and a rare type of onion we had made into stuffing got rid of the fishy taste.

On the way home he landed me on a desert island to make a survey. He was sparse in his praises; but he wrote of me: "As a sailor, an officer, a Navigator and a gentleman, I cannot praise him too highly." Confronted with this uncommon expression of praise from Oliver Jones, the examiners never asked me a question. They gave me on the spot a first-class certificate.

This Captain Oliver Jones raised a regiment of cavalry for the Indian Mutiny and was its Colonel, and Sir Hope Grant, the great Cavalry General in the Indian Mutiny, said he had never met the equal of Oliver Jones as a cavalry leader. He broke his neck out hunting.

It's going rather backwards now to speak of the time when I was a Midshipman of the "Jolly Boat" in 1854, in an old Sailing Line of Battleship of eighty-four guns. I think I must have told of sailing into Harbour every morning to get the Ship's Company's beef from Spithead or Plymouth Sound or the Nore. We never went into harbour in those days, and it was very unpleasant work. I always felt there was a chance of being drowned. Once at the Nore in mid-winter all our cables parted in a gale and we ran into the Harbour and anchored with our hemp cable ; it seemed as big round as my small body was then, and it lay coiled like a huge gigantic serpent just before the Cockpit. Nelson must have looked at a similar hemp cable as he died in that corner of the Cockpit which was close to it. All Battleships were exactly alike. You could go ashore then for forty years and come on board again quite up to date. On our Quarter Deck were brass Cannonades that had fired at the French Fleet at Trafalgar. No one but the Master knew about Navigation. I remember when the Master was sick and the second Master was away and the Master's Assistant had only just entered the Navy, we didn't go to Sea till the Master got out of bed again. There was a wonderfully smart Commander in one of the other Battleships who had the utmost contempt for Science; he used to say that he didn't believe in the new-fangled sighting of the guns, "Your Tangent Sights and Disparts!" What he found to be practically the best procedure was a cold veal pie and a bottle of rum to the first man that hit the target. We have these same "dears" with us now, but they are disguised in a clean white shirt and white kid gloves, but as for believing in Engineers--"Sack the Lot"!

I come to another episode of comparatively early years.

Yesterday I heard from a gentleman whom I had not seen for thirty-eight years, and he reminded me of a visit to me when I was Captain of the "Inflexible." I was regarded by the Admiral Superintendent of the Dockyard as the Incarnation of Revolution. This particular episode I'm going to relate was that I wanted the incandescent light. Lord Kelvin had taken me to dine with the President of the Royal Society, where for the first time his dining table was lighted with six incandescent lamps, provided by his friend Mr. Swan of Newcastle, the Inventor in this Country of the Incandescent light, as Mr. Edison was in America . After this dinner I wrote to Mr. Swan to get these lamps for the "Inflexible," and he sent down the friend who wrote me the letter I received yesterday and we had an exhibition to convert this old fossil of an Admiral Superintendent.

Here I'll put in Mr. Henry Edmunds's own words:--

At last we got our lamps to glow satisfactorily; and at that moment the Admiral was announced. Captain Fisher had warned me that I must be careful how I answered any questions, for the Admiral was of the stern old school, and prejudiced against all new-fangled notions. The Admiral appeared resplendent in gold lace, and accompanied by such a bevy of ladies that I was strongly reminded of the character in "H.M.S. Pinafore" "with his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts." The Admiral immediately asked if I had seen the "Inflexible." I replied that I had. "Have you seen the powder magazine?" "Yes! I have been in it." "What would happen to one of these little glass bubbles in the event of a broadside?" I did not think it would affect them. "How do you know? You've never been in a ship during a broadside!" I saw Captain Fisher's eye fixed upon me; and a sailor was dispatched for some gun-cotton. Evidently everything had been ready prepared, for he quickly returned with a small tea tray about two feet long, upon which was a layer of gun-cotton, powdered over with black gun-powder. The Admiral asked if I was prepared to break one of the lamps over the tray. I replied that I could do so quite safely, for the glowing lamp would be cooled down by the time it fell amongst the gun-cotton. I took a cold chisel, smashed a lamp, and let it fall. The Company saw the light extinguished, and a few pieces of glass fall on the tray. There was no flash, and the gun-powder and gun-cotton remained as before. There was a short pause, while the Admiral gazed on the tray. Then he turned, and said to Lord Fisher, "We'll have this light on the 'Inflexible.'"

And that was the introduction of the incandescent light into the British Navy.

Talking about water-closets, I remember so well long ago that one of the joys on board a Man-of-War on Christmas Day was having what was called a "Free Tank," that is to say, you could go and get as much fresh water as ever you liked, all other days you were restricted, so much for drinking and so much for washing. The other Christmas Joy was "Both sides of the 'Head' open"! What that meant was that right in the Bows or Head of the Ship were situated all the Bluejackets' closets, and on Christmas Day all could be used! "all were free." Usually only half were allowed to be open at a time. It was a quaint custom, and I always thought outrageous. "Nous avons chang? tout cela."

When I was out in the West Indies a French Frigate came into the Harbour with Yellow Fever on board. My Admiral asked the Captain of the English Man-of-War that happened to be there what kindness he had shown the French Frigate on arrival? He said he had sent them the keys of the Cemetery. This Captain always took his own champagne with him and put it under his chair. I took a passage with him once in his Ship, he had a Chart hanging up in his cabin like one of those recording barometers, which showed exactly how his wine was getting on. When he came to call on the Admiral at his house on shore, he always brought a small bundle with him, and after his Official visit he'd go behind a bush in the garden and change into plain clothes! All the same, this is the stuff that heroes are made of. Heroes are always quaint.

FURTHER MEMORIES OF KING EDWARD AND OTHERS

King Edward paid a visit to Admiralty House, Portsmouth, 19th February to 22nd February, 1904, while I was Commander-in-Chief there; and after he had left I received the following letter from Lord Knollys:--

MY DEAR ADMIRAL,

I am desired by the King to write and thank you again for your hospitality.

His Majesty also desires me to express his great appreciation of all of the arrangements, which were excellent, and they reflect the greatest credit both on you and on those who worked under your orders.

I am very glad the visit was such a great success and went off so well. The King was evidently extremely pleased with and interested in everything.

Yours sincerely, KNOLLYS.

I can say that I never more enjoyed such a visit. The only thing was that I wasn't Master in my own house, the King arranged who should come to dinner and himself arranged how everyone should sit at table; I never had a look in. Not only this, but he also had the Cook up in the morning. She was absolutely the best cook I've ever known. She was cheap at ?100 a year. She was a remarkably lovely young woman. She died suddenly walking across a hay field. The King gave her some decoration, I can't remember what it was. Some little time after the King had left--one night I said to the butler at dinner, "This soup was never made by Mrs. Baker; is she ill?" The butler replied, "No, Sir John, Mrs. Baker isn't ill, she has been invited by His Majesty the King to stay at Buckingham Palace." And that was the first I had heard of it. Mrs. Baker had two magnificent kitchenmaids of her own choosing and she thought she wouldn't be missed. I had an interview with Mrs. Baker on her return from her Royal Visit, and she told me that the King had said to her one morning before he left Admiralty House, Portsmouth, that he thought she would enjoy seeing how a Great State Dinner was managed, and told her he would ask her to stay at Buckingham Palace or Windsor Castle to see one! Which is only one more exemplification of what I said of King Edward in my first book, that he had an astounding aptitude of appealing to the hearts of both High and Low.

My friends tell me I have done wrong in omitting countless other little episodes of his delightful nature.

"One touch of nature makes the whole world kin!"

This is a sweet little episode that occurred at Sandringham. The King was there alone and Lord Redesdale and myself were his only guests. The King was very fond of Redesdale, and rightly so. He was a most delightful man. He and I were sitting in the garden near dinner time, the King came up and said it was time to dress and he went up in the lift, leaving Redesdale in the garden. Redesdale had a letter to write and rushed up to his bedroom to write the letter behind a screen there was between him and the door; the door opened and in came the King, thinking he had left Redesdale in the garden, and went to the wash-hand-stand and felt the hot water-can to see if the water was hot and went out again. Perhaps his water had been cold, but anyhow he came to see if his guest's was all right.

On another occasion I went down to Sandringham with a great party, I think it was for one of Blessed Queen Alexandra's birthdays . As I was zero in this grand party, I slunk off to my room to write an important letter; then I took my coat off, got out my keys, unlocked my portmanteau and began unpacking. I had a boot in each hand; I heard somebody fumbling with the door handle and thinking it was the Footman whom Hawkins had allocated to me, I said "Come in, don't go humbugging with that door handle!" and in walked King Edward, with a cigar about a yard long in his mouth. He said "What on earth are you doing?" "Unpacking, Sir." "Where's your servant?" "Haven't got one, Sir." "Where is he?" "Never had one, Sir; couldn't afford it." "Put those boots down; sit in that arm chair." And he went and sat in the other on the other side of the fire. I thought to myself, "This is a rum state of affairs! Here's the King of England sitting in my bedroom on one side of the fire and I'm in my shirt sleeves sitting in an armchair on the other side!"

"Well," His Majesty said, "why didn't you come and say, 'How do you do' when you arrived?" I said, "I had a letter to write, and with so many great people you were receiving I thought I had better come to my room." Then he went on with a long conversation, until it was only about a quarter of an hour from dinner time, and I hadn't unpacked! So I said to the King, "Sir, you'll be angry if I'm late for dinner, and no doubt your Majesty has two or three gentlemen to dress you, but I have no one." And he gave me a sweet smile and went off.

All the same, he could be extremely unpleasant; and one night I had to send a telegram for a special messenger to bring down some confounded Ribbon and Stars, which His Majesty expected me to wear. I'd forgotten the beastly things . One night when I got the King's Nurse to dress me up, she put the Ribbon of something over the wrong shoulder, and the King harangued me as if I'd robbed a church. I didn't like to say it was his Nurse's fault. Some of these Ribbons you put over one shoulder and some of them you have to put over the other; it's awfully puzzling. But the King was an Angel all the same, only he wasn't always one. Personally I don't like perfect angels, one doesn't feel quite comfortable with them. One of Cecil Rhodes's secretaries wrote his Life, and left out all his defects; it was a most unreal picture. The Good stands out all the more strikingly if there is a deep shadow. I think it's called the Rembrandt Effect. Besides, it's unnatural for a man not to have a Shadow, and the thought just occurs to me how beautiful it is--"The Shadow of Death"! There couldn't be the Shadow unless there was a bright light! The Bright Light is Immortality! Which reminds me that yesterday I read Dean Inge's address at the Church Congress the day before on Immortality. If I had anything to do with it, I'd make him Archbishop of Canterbury. I don't know him, but I go to hear him preach whenever I can.

The Story about Queen Alexandra is this. My beloved friend Soveral, one of King Edward's treasured friends, asked me to lunch on Queen Alexandra's sixtieth birthday. After lunch all the people said something nice to Queen Alexandra, and it came to my turn, I said to Her Majesty, "Have you seen that halfpenny newspaper about your Majesty's birthday?" She said she hadn't, what was it? I said these were the words:--

"The Queen is sixty to-day! May she live till she looks it!"

Her Majesty said "Get me a copy of it!" About three weeks afterwards she said, "Where's that halfpenny newspaper?" I was staggered for a moment, but recovered myself and said "Sold out, Ma'am; couldn't get a copy!" But the lovely part of the story yet remains. A year afterwards she sent me a lovely postcard which I much treasure now. It was a picture of a little girl bowling a hoop, and Her Majesty's own head stuck on, and underneath she had written:--

"May she live till she looks it!"

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